It is a fundamental human compulsion to own, possess, and have. Perhaps even more than a human compulsion, it is an existential one for all species born under the conditions of scarcity.

The Circle of Greed off the Claimed Hells, takes this to a functional art form. They do not fight, or even physically harm you. Rather, they set wagers, inflict penalties, and seize from others—your aspects, your items, your memories, your favors, and even your life, per the conditions of their wagers.

These wagers, they can also lose. And in the time before they set these wagers, should they be ambushed, or engaged before adequate market research can be conducted, then killing a Demon of Greed is oh so easy.

But, however, if you let them set their conditions, if you fail to understand the volatilities they're forcing on you, be prepared to lose—perhaps more than your life.

-Compendium Entry: “Greed”

82

Experiences (II)

Wei entered the realm of Greed, ready for anything. He was prepared thrice over, doubled up on potions, and clad in his Armor of Scorn, already formed through the murder of lesser demons. He had tried twice more to get Bishop’s elaboration. The man managed some annoyed utterances about watching for supply and demand, never accepting any bids on his armor or weaponry, and how it wouldn’t be any kind of fight Wei was familiar with.

The resigned annoyance left Wei feeling on edge. The young master resolved to make a proper fight of things this time, having already passed through the hearted realms of Gluttony, Lust, Sloth, and Wrath. His defeats had ranged from overwhelming force to disgusted forfitures. Thankfully, Bishop had assured him there would be no more questionable fluids in this hearted realm, and just as well. Wei didn’t think he would ever want to look at the Demon of Lust again after his recent experiences.

As he arrived before the Spatial Rift, bound to take him into the Threshold of Greed, he looked above, peering through the atmosphere with his impressive omniscience. He frowned at the Archdevil of Gluttony. Each Archdevil bore aesthetics related to their governed concept, ranging from the fetid, like Sloth, to the open and brutal, as shown by the anthropomorphized form of Wrath. Greed was different. Greed resembled an hourglass filled with treasures imprinted within a hand—the hand Wei had come to respect and expect. He had fought the Invisible Hand of the Market, after all.

"Have you ever heard the phrase, 'Time is money?'” Bishop intoned.

“What? No.”

"Yeah, then it won’t make much sense to you. The idea’s pretty simple. It’s about how if one has enough material possessions, they can afford more time. Time to do what they want. Time to enjoy their lives."

"Seems awfully simplistic," the young master replied. "Wealth is one thing. It is good to have, but wealth is not power."

"Some might disagree," Bishop replied.

"Some have not faced the beggar gangs. They have no wealth, ostensibly. But power? Everyone knows better than the cross or beggar."

"Maybe where you’re from, kid. Me? The place I grew up, a poet of rage once said, 'Get rich or die trying.' Suppose the most human thing is want."

Wei considered the words and stared into the swirling abyss of spatial essence before him. A final breath escaped him as he prepared himself for what lay ahead—for anything that could await.

"Don’t worry, out of all the Hearted Realms, this one’s least likely to kill you."

"Then why do you sound so nervous?"

"I ain’t nervous. It’s just... death and misery are two different things. You’ll see for yourself."

Wei bit his lip, dropped the Liminal Anchor, and stepped forward.

The world opened up around him once more, and his Omniscience followed right after. Instead of the decayed horizons or colorful fields that pleased one's spirit, Wei found himself in a narrow, cramped hall. The walls were a pure porcelain white, the lights above too bright, bright enough to stab irritatingly at his vision. To Wei’s surprise, he wasn’t alone. He found himself positioned in a long line of people, both ahead and behind him. Actual people—rather than demons.

He observed those in his vicinity. Most were level 16 or under, with only a few past 20. They all looked haggard, dirty, and most importantly, bored. A static crackle pulled the young master's attention as a voice spoke, thrilled and unpleasant.

“Good day, sinners. For those of you just joining us, welcome to the line of the upper-middlers! If you are here, that means you have accrued enough sins to be considered an upper-middle-class sinner for the Claimed Hells. Rejoice! This is a feat cheered by far too few. After all, we can’t all be winners. Enjoy your line of…. Nothing! No pain. But also no torment. A perfectly bland existence filled with banality and constant mundanity. Perhaps consider earning more if you wish to know true pleasure.”

Sneering laughter followed, the voice’s amusement so vile it grated against Wei's Intent. He resisted the horrible compulsion to hurt something—anything, even himself. Some of the others in line weren’t so lucky. Three meters over, a tall, pale-blooded faeblooded woman gave a lamenting sob before screaming at the ceiling and driving a long blade through her own throat.

Wei recoiled at the sudden violence. Instead of dying, a set of numbers formed over the woman.

"Resurrection provided. Adopting ten thousand sins from sinner. We thank you for your business."

"What? What is this?" Wei gasped.

“Failed her Will resist,” the armor-clad orc in front of him snorted. ‘Also been in this line for three days.”

“Three days?” Wei gasped. “Why? Where is this? For what?”

“To get out of this shithole,” the orc answered. He sighed, his considerable physique sagging under its own weight. “We came here because we heard there was no fighting involved. Well. That was true. No horror. But… they apparently select people based on lottery numbers, and there are hundreds of us here, and time works differently—the less you have, the slower it goes for you. And you can use Sins to buy comforts, but every little eternity, they randomly check if you’re still middle class.”

“What if you’re not?” Wei asked.

“Then you get sent to a line below and start the process again.”

“Then why hasn’t anyone rebelled?”

“At what? Go where? Look around you, human. There’s jack and jack here. Not even shit. And even if we wanted to, there’s nothing we can do. They own us. Literally. Watch.”

The faeblood suddenly shuddered back to her feet. A flood of bright, scintillating essence seared away from her open wound as she blinked rapidly and drew in a sharp breath. A string of text extended from her.

Mira Nocture - Sins: [1,310,230] - [100,000]

Resurrection Deduction Processed

“Attention, sinners. As you have willingly entered the Hearted Realm of Greed without coercion, this signifies your consent to our mandatory insurance program to ensure that you do not pass until we get our sufficient due. Rejoice! For under Greed's insurance program, you will be protected from all instances of bodily, mental, and spiritual harm."

"What?" Wei cried out again. "This is absurd!"

Wei stepped out of line for a second, desperately focusing on the Faeblood and the others. He wanted to see how far this place extended, if there was anywhere for him to go. His Omniscience extended far, almost a full kilometer, but even so, he sensed nothing but hallways, essence, and other Trespassers. Sweeping his perception ahead and behind, he realized the hall seemed infinite, extending onward forever and ever.

“Attention, Sinner Wei An wei. You have stepped out of line. Failure to reenter the line will result in your position being forfeit.”

"And what happens if my position is forfeit?" Wei asked, mostly annoyed, partially curious.

“Then you will be removed from the middle-class line leading through this Hearted Realm and actively penalized every second due to no longer being registered within our system. Doing such will result in a processing period in which you will need to fill in a 6 billion page document pending official review by management before your transition can be completed.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"What system? What registration?" Wei growled, his frustration mounting.

“The registration you agreed to upon entering this Hearted Realm.”

"I didn’t agree to anything!" Wei shouted, his fist clenching as his scythe began to form above him. His patience was fast approaching its end.

"But you did," the speaker continued, voice tinged with malicious glee. "It was a textual message inscribed on the edifice holding our space orbit. A nanometer-wide print.”

Bishop added. "It also moves away when you try looking at it. We’ve done experiments."

"You knew about this?" Wei growled internally. "Why didn’t you warn me?"

"What would that have done?" Bishop asked. "You can’t enter the Archdevil without agreeing to the print. You can’t change the print unless you can lock it down. So far, no one's been able to do that—not us, not the Inheritors, nobody."

The Trespasser said all that, but Wei suspected Bishop just wanted to share in the amusement as well.

"Yeah, a bit of that too."

Bastard.

“Attention, Sinner Wei An Wei. If you do not return to your spot, your position will be forfeit, and we will subtract from you 10,000 sins, starting in five seconds. After that, the penalty will double.”

"No," Wei growled, straining his Omniscience. He used every ounce of power he possessed to locate where foreign essence was infused within him. The Claimed Hells had their own rules, and from what Wei observed, things were not done ex nihilo. But no matter how deep he probed, Wei found nothing.

"Look in your money."

"What?"

"Look at your sins."

Wei paused and did as advised, letting his omniscience trickle over the mystical fragments the Claimed Hells used as currency. His mind suddenly ground to a halt. His Sins were rattling, resonating, as if compelled by a higher force.

"Surprise," Bishop said blandly. "You found the foundations of Greed."

"What? Everyone has sins here. They do not have so much influence."

"Why not?" Bishop asked. "Why can't they have that much influence?"

"How would Mepheleon..."

"Mepheleon? Mepheleon made them this way. He thinks it’s hilarious. Listen, kid, if there’s something you want to learn about the Circle of Greed, it’s that they don’t technically really fight anyone. In fact, they’re in bed with everyone within the Claimed Hells, and I mean everyone—from the Lodge to the Inheritors, to the Unfallen, to the Dying Queen, to the Crossroads. Especially the Crossroads. And all the other Ciircles, too. The best thing about Greed is that they don’t even test for loyalty. Because they don’t believe in it. They believe in profit. So long as you’re earning, you’re a member."

"But this," Wei sputtered, "this is practically incestuous!"

"That is their ideology. To possess and ruin someone else’s day is their version of purity. Speaking of incest, come on, I know about you cultivators and your first cousin, second cousin marriage traditions. Don’t you think that’s a bit like casting boulders at a glass pebble?"

Wei bristled. "Master Bishop, I have given you clemency enough for your mockery. But do not assume you know our ways. All cultivators undergo sophisticated tests to ensure the eugenic alignment of yin and yang between contrasting bloodlines. Purity is above all.”

A stretch of silence followed from the trespasser.

"You know what? You’re just an idiot kid raised by a bunch of backward people. I’m going to let that eugenics and race realist stuff slide for now, but when you get up here into the Claimed Hells, there are some things you’ll need to learn."

Wei shrugged, not seeing the point. After all, what was there left to discover in a field as explored as bloodline purity? Cultivators were practically overbred as it were.

The demonic voice returned. “Deduction imminent. Please prepare—”

The young master brought his form of the Harvester down, not upon anyone else in the line, nor the walls, but upon himself. He carved into his Sins, severing the link that compelled their resonance. The realm around him shuddered. A screech of outrage came from the unseen speaker.

“What?!" Darkness and light drifted high from Wei’s form, as if impurities expelled.

"You! What have you done? What was that skill?"

Wei simply smiled. Now it was time for him to be smug.

“I have done nothing,” he replied, lying through his teeth. He could faintly hear Bishop laughing in the back of his mind, which only made his grin grow wider.

"This is an outrage! This offends the System itself!"

“I spit upon your System," Wei said, "and I spit upon the market economy.”

A gasp came from the unseen force, the hoarseness of the inhale conveying grave offense.

"You—you dare?"

"I do dare. And I take offense to your accusations." Holding his arms wide, Wei addressed the other Sinners. "Call upon all others to be my witness. Did I do anything? Did you see me inflict any damage at all? Upon the premises? Upon anyone?"

Eyes turned to him, one after another. The other sinners, haggard though they were, had a glimpse of defiance ignited behind their eyes.

“I didn’t see shit,” the bloodied woman declared, the same faeblood who had stabbed herself earlier.

“Me neither,” another agreed, nodding.

“His mind sings of honesty.” A Hiivekin chittered, in the back lying outright to support the growing movement.

"You—you all—you will all be fined for this!"

"Fined for what?" Wei continued his defiance. "I thought this passage was one under Greed, not Wrath or Pride. Is your ego wounded? Do you wish to settle things with force instead?"

"I—you—I’m going to get my manager."

"Good," Wei roared. "Bring us someone worth breaking, because you are clearly lacking."

"You’ll regret this!" The voice stammered. "We’ll sue you so many times you’ll spend the next twelve centuries working for us!"

"Oh shit, you’ve done it now, Wei," Bishop snorted. "Prepare to really get into the circus now."

Wei snorted derisively. It wasn’t like they could make things any worse... or more absurd. Could they?

Suddenly, two massive doors burst open before Wei, and a glowing red carpet rolled out to welcome him into another chamber hidden beyond the walls.

The lights there were even brighter somehow, with little chandeliers lined with swaying diamonds, complex portraits, and murals crawling across the walls. At the end of this new chamber stood another demon. This one was large, though nowhere near as gargantuan as those Wei had faced in the prior Hearted Realms. It stood about three meters tall, with far too many hands, all hammering on multiple square-cubed tiles. In the background, a machine screeched, spewing out pages of printed paper.

"A fax machine," Bishop provided unhelpfully. “It breaks all the time and never functions right. Just to waste your time. It’s a weapon in the hands of Greed.”

"Perfect," Wei muttered. "I now know exactly what that is."

The demon itself wore four different pairs of spectacles, stacked one over the other. It was draped in an assuit lined with encrusted gems and jewels, painted with eye-watering patterns, and sporting a tie made from a tar-black substance.

"That's oil," Bishop added. "Call it liquid gold."

The demon itself was a fat, ugly, wretched creature that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Hearted Realm of Sloth—if only it were naked and covered in filth.

"You know the difference between Greed and Sloth? Not that far, sometimes," Bishop added.

Middle Manager: Lv. ???

Wei frowned. Why was this bastard sporting so many question marks? What kind of middle management was this?

As much as the name “Starmater” made the young master shudder at the implications it held, it was something, some kind of statement. The closest comparison Wei could draw was to a senior disciple of a well-known sect. But even so, it sounded like something someone would use when they had nothing else to proclaim their prowess.

"Well, come on in. Don’t stand around waiting. Time is money, you know," the Middle anager called out.

Somehow, the demon's voice was even more grating than the last demon Wei had encountered. He closed his eyes at the disgusting, miserable quote.

"On you," Bishop said, spurring Wei forward.

Lightning crackled from the young master's Broken Crescent. "No more pointless talks. No more of this bureaucratic misery." The Form of the Martial Harvester burned around Wei, casting his Shroud of Scorn in an oscillation of shadow and light. He looked to the other Sinners, taking in their awe-filled gazes.

This was what it meant to be a patriarch.

"This will take but a moment," Wei declared confidently. Then he manifested a Vector Chain.

"Oh good," the fat, ugly demon sighed. "Another one of you violent customers. Alright, let’s do this."

The Middle Manager hefted a truly massive stack of papers, but Wei's broken crescent exploded across the room, tearing the velvet carpet to shreds and fracturing the walls. But that wasn’t all. The young master’s momentum continued unabated. A Lance of Calamity followed, both attacks further charged by Wei's Form of the Martial Harvester. Once they struck, the demon would surely—

The Broken Crescent, infused with stone-shattering lightning and cloud-breaking wind, impacted the demon’s thick stack of papers. Then it vanished. The Lance of Calamity followed thereafter—and disappeared as well.

Wei blinked. Everyone next to him blinked. The Middle Manager coughed violently, hacking to clear his throat of a stubborn gob of phlegm. "Well then, do you feel better now? Can we finally address proceedings like civilized scoundrels and fight each other in a properly anointed court of law?"

But Wei wasn’t done. He dismissed his Broken Crescent and tried to resummon it, and failed.

Weapon Impounded

Please pay [1,000,000,000,000] Sins as a retrieval fee.

Red crept over Wei’s vision as he nearly suffered an aneurysm. “I… this… you…”

“Come in,” the Middle Manager repeated again. “Or perhaps I could just sell the bloody weapon and—”

Wei’s Form of the Martial Harvester cleaved down with a massive scythe, some twenty meters long, splitting the distance between him and the Middle Manage’s backside. Parted from his spear, the wave snarled as Wei brought his leg down in a descending axe kick, going so fast it cracked the sound barrier.

“Return what is mine!”

The Demon of Greed simply rolled its eyes.